


Prophecy

by queerlyobscure (softestpunk)



Series: Trope Bingo Round Three (2014) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Style, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/queerlyobscure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know what Macbeth, Ring Wraiths and Darth Vader have in common? Their downfall came from someone ignoring a prophecy. Smart people don't ignore prophecies. Smart people snuggle up to them and make friends."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a prophecy. Sam and Crowley are involved. It goes about as well for both of them as you'd imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> For the trope_bingo square 'au: fairy tale/myth'. Sort of fairy tale style. IDK. This is just a sketch of a world that might have been.

Crowley sized up the boy being lead into his hall with a curious eye. He was tall, taller, he thought, than anyone he'd met before. Fit and muscular as well. He'd expected to be incredulous that this was the boy they were looking for, but no. No, this boy he had no trouble imagining as a king. Whether that was relevant or not remained to be seen.

"Sam Winchester," he rolled the name around his mouth. "Take it I can call you Sam?"

Sam only raised an eyebrow. Crowley took that as a no, but elected to ignore it. "Samuel?" He wrinkled his nose. "Too formal. Sam it is. Do you know why you're here, Sam?"

Sam continued to stare quietly. As far as death stares went, it was better than average. Crowley mentally gave it a seven.

"I understand there's a prophecy, about you and I. Heard of it?"

"No." Sam tugged himself free from the guards who'd escorted him in. Crowley waved them away. Physically impressive as Sam was, he wouldn't pose much danger. "Why, should I have?" he continued as though nothing had happened.

"Maybe." Crowley shrugged. "Who's to say. The pointy end of it is that you're supposed to take control of my kingdom, which, given the option, I'd rather avoid."

"I have no idea where we are."

"Hell." Crowley smirked. "The nice bit."

Now it was Sam's turn to wrinkle his nose. "Seriously? I'm not interested."

"And here I was thinking I could call you my own Persephone."

The look on Sam's face suggested he caught the reference. "Firstly, ew. Secondly, I don't even know who the hell you are."

"Name's Crowley." He would have offered his hand, but Sam was still several paces away and apparently set on shouting this whole exchange. Also, the 'ew' remark had stung a bit. "Feels like something you should know, doesn't it? The name of the bloke responsible for your soul when you die."

"I've never heard of you. And since I'm not dead, I'd like to go home now."

"I'm sure you would, but since it's my arse on the line, I'd rather you stayed." Crowley snapped his fingers so the room changed to a cosy salon, complete with plush armchairs and dark wood furniture. Having arranged it so one of the chairs would hit his guest in the back of the knees and force him to sit, he settled in the other and crossed his legs, reaching out for a decanter of whiskey on the table between them. "Just long enough for a little chat."

"Right, sure." Sam looked at him dubiously. The boy obviously didn't trust his intentions, which only went to show what a bright young man he was. Barely out of his twenties and still smart enough to know better than to blindly trust a strange man offering proverbial candy. Truly a triumph of human intellect if ever there was one.

"While I would normally warrant as much, if not  _more_  suspicion than I can see you have about me, right now I'm not trying to hide anything. They're tricky things, prophecies. I like to let them come to pass rather than argue."

"So... your solution is what?"

"We go halvies." Crowley poured into two glasses and slid one across the table to Sam. "Seems like the most civilised option."

"You want to split your kingdom with me?" Sam asked. "On the basis of a prophecy I've literally never heard of?"

"I don't see how you not having heard of it is relevant, sweetheart." Crowley sipped his drink. "Probably a lot of things you've never heard of that are, nevertheless, real."

"Okay, okay." Sam grabbed his own drink and let it swirl in the bottom of the glass, but stopped short of actually drinking it. Again, smart. Not that there was anything in it, but there might have been. "So let's assume for a second that this isn't the craziest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

"Sounds like a fair assumption to me." Crowley shrugged and downed the rest of his drink while he waited for Sam to continue.

"So you wanna what? Abduct me and force me to stay as your queen?"

"You've got the legs for a dress." Crowley licked his lips. Sam was smart. He'd understand what he was being offered and take it up like the good little boy king he was apparently destined to be. Might as well give the prophecy what it wanted in name and cross everything in the hope it'd be enough.

"I'm not gonna dignify that with a response." Sam tipped back his glass and swallowed half his drink in one go. He braced for the burn, and then looked surprised and just maybe a little pleased when it never hit. There was a perk or two to being King of Hell, after all.

"Then dignify this: will you consent to splitting power evenly with me? Because I'm willing to give up half of this to live."

"What makes you think I'm gonna kill you? I didn't even know you until today."

"You know what Macbeth, Ring Wraiths and Darth Vader have in common? Their downfall came from someone ignoring a prophecy. Smart people don't ignore prophecies. Smart people snuggle up to them and make friends."

"You get that those are all fictional characters, right?"

"I feel like you're missing the point here." Crowley sat back with a huff. "Listen, I don't want to be in this mess any more than you do. But here we are." He raised his hands and then let them fall to his thighs with a slap. "In this. Together."

"And your actual, genuine solution is to what? Marry me?"

"More or less." Crowley raised an eyebrow. "You jumped to that a little quickly, didn't you? Burning desire to be a princess under all that hair?"

" _No_ ," Sam said. A little too forcefully if you asked Crowley, which no one had the courtesy to do.

"If you say so." Crowley poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"What the hell are you, anyway?"

"Not the politest question you could ask. Demon. Why, what are you?"

Sam licked his lips. "Human."

"Sure about that?"

Crowley let the question hang in the air. He watched Sam get more and more uncomfortable until he couldn't take it any more, then interrupted the silence with a cough.

"I don't care what you are, for the record. Human or something a little to the left of. All the same to me."

"Send me home."

Sam's tone was obviously not supposed to leave any room for argument. Crowley noted that as he opened his mouth to completely ignore it.

"You sure? I could give you the guided tour, if you like. Show you what you'd get out of the deal."

"Listen, if you  _don't_  send me home, your prophecy is gonna come true right here and now."

"Touchy." Crowley downed his second glass of whiskey and then snapped his fingers to send Sam back. He'd obviously have to try a different approach.


End file.
